Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, August 5, 1899, Page 2

Frozen Heart, A THRILLING LOWE STORY. BY FRANCES WARNER WALKER. CHAPTER XXXIII. It was a scene awful in its solemnity, Her voice died away in the silence. The water rippled over the stones at their feet as its echo. The leaves rust- led overhead. A bird sleepily sang its good-night to its mate. And beneath the tree stcod the lovely vision whose words rendered her own self-condem- nation. She looked scarce Mke a living wo- man. Yet her pallor and her pitiless eelf-scourging lent her beauty. Lord Montfort was the first to speak. “I do not believe it!” he said; but his voice was the voice of an old man, and all his youth seemed suddenly to have fied. “It is false to save his life!” ana he looked toward Arkwright. “No, it is true,” she answered. “Look at me well, Lord Montfort, now, when my eyes do not seek to beguile you nor my lips to smile, and you will see Tam not Dorothy—not the wife whom you married—which, alas, you must still mourn as dead!—but her sister, twin in all outer semblance, thougn not in inner likeness. In soul, in heart, Doro- * thy was beautiful as in face. Ought I to ask your pardon? You must not grant it. And it is his pardon i should seek—bis whose lips were sealed this morning when you taxed him with dis- honor in the moment of his highest manhood. Yet his forgiveness, too, is past. But will you not sometimes re- member that I, myself, stripped the mask from my face? I might have worn it even to the end; but thank God—thank God, He gave me strength! Lord Montfort, these—these are the dia- monds your mother gave—me. ‘Yake se—and tell her—” yed a moment, then tottered Her eyes turned toward Ark- wright; in them the shadow of her re- nunciation and the glow of her awak- ened heart—the fire his heart had kind- led. “Harry!” came in a low, faint whis- per from her lips. And then she sank in a merciful un- consciousness, upon the green, velvety 8 d. Arkwright Montfort stood still. “Carry her to the house,” he said. “I eannot touch her; and see that, as yet, sprang forward. Lord mother knows nothing. It will kill ber!” The last word died in a sob, and, plunging in among the bushes, he was soon lost to sight amid the dense foli- ; age. It seemed to him that the grave is young wife had been rent open by sacrilegious hands, and all that was holiest in his heart exposed to a mock- ing gaze. Arkwright and Florence were alone; but the long lashes lay like a heavy fringe upon her cheek, and only the fluttering breath between her} rted lips showed that life was tinct. He lifted her in his arms as once he had done before, and carried her to the house. Happily, he met no one. Lady Montfort wa n her own room summoning her maid to her @ he mounted a hor quest of a physician. As he laid her upon the bed she had opened her eyes; and no consciousness was in- their expr ion, and he felt that the long strain had given way at last. “Say nothing to my mothe! 77 had Deen Lord Mortimer’s injunction; but how could the truth be kept from her? This was the problem perplexing him as he rode back to the castle. For him- self, only an infinite pity mingled with the love which w the master-passion of his life. Cruel had been the per- verting of her own nature, so cruel had been the causes which had led to it. He held them, not her, responsible. We do not blame the madman for his acts. We have compassion for his madness. So Arkwright felt that Florence had indeed been driven to the verge of mad- ness; but the mists had scattered from her brain—the ice at her heart had melted. With her reason had returned her wo- manhood. He heard again her low- voiced utterance of his name with her last conscious breath, and baring his head in the night air, he prayed that her life might be spared, and that it might be given to him to wipe out the past in the future, which, by God’s help should be shadowed by no cloud. CHAPTER XXXIV. As he entered the castle and passed hurriedly through the hall, a voice ealled his name. He turned, when, from one of the smaller rooms,'a man advanced to meet him. “Mr. Strong!” he exclaimed, in some surprise. And he saw that the lawyer's face was ghastly and his strong frame trembling. “I have just sent for Lord Herbert, and they say he is not in the house. I —I—. This is a terrible business, Mr. Arkwright. Do they suspect anything here? At any moment Lady Montfort may appear, and I fear the shock of what I have to tell will kill her.” “The shock! What do you mean? How have you learned the truth?’ “I saw Louis Gervase this morn- ing—’ “And you believed his story?” “In part, yes. But truth is stranger indeed, than fiction, and the role which the so-called Lady Montfort has been pleying has been made reality. The true aspirant to the title is here, with- in this very room. Herbert’s wife has risen, indeed, from the dead!” Arkwright fairly staggered as he listened. “Thank God! thank God!” he mur- mured, while tears sprang unbidden to ais eyes. Then a sudden inspiration came to him. “Lady Montfort, Mr. Strong, must never know the truth. If this likeness could deceive the husband, so now it may serve the good purpose of deceiv-, ing her. We will tell her that Flor- ence, hearing of her sister's return, came here to find her, Florence is ly- ing up stairs, very, very ill. Dorothy must lear the truth; but, first, Her- bert must know. If Lady Montfort comes down, tell her that Florence Vane is lying ill beneath her roof. If I know her aright she will not wish to see her, but will pardon her presence here for Dorothy's sake. It is a des- perate resort, but I can see no other way.” The lawyer grasped his hand. “If it succeeds, it is admirable,” he said. “But where is Herbert? He must be prepared.” “Ask Lady Montfort to come with me. I thirk we can find him in the grounds; and on the way I will ex- plain all to her. It is nearly the din- rer hour. I leave ycu to receive Her- ert’s mother.” Who so well could tell the sad story as one whose love had already found palliation for its wrong? Dorothy knew all when they two had reached that little clump of trees be- side the lake, and though her eyes were wet with tears and her voice broken, she, too, felt only a great love | and a great pity in her heart. On and on they walked. knew a favorite where he had often sought to be alone in any boyish trouble. Instinctively he felt that he would seek it now. It was a spot in the very heart of the miniature wood. He held back the branches and let the wife pass in alone. Yes; Arkwright had been right. In the fas man’s form stretched on the ground, his face buried in his outstretched arms, She went swiftly forward and laid her hand upon his shoulder. “Bertie!” she whispered, “Merciful God!” he cried. “Have you again came to tempt, to mock re?” And he sprang upright to his feet. With a yearning cry, she threw her. self upon his heart. “Bertie! Bertie!” she sobbed. “God, indeed, has given us to each other!” The man tossed back the hair from his brow, if thus he could clear his bewildere rain; but already Dorothy was sobbing out her story, and, as he listened, his arms closed about her tighter and tighter, and he knew that, in very truth, the grave had given up its dead. The fever truly had spared her. The mistake which Florence had described in changing the room had, im reality, occurred. The wedding ring had bee taken from her finger and the certifi- cate from her breast. These had come into Florence’s pos- at the hospital, and had helped y out the fraud. But for one year Dorothy’s brain had been clouded by the fever mists. Kind friends had cared for her, but, in her delirium, she fancied another name hers, and no clue could be found to her identity. . At last her mind had cleared. For some time all inquiry was fruitless; at last, she, too, had chanced upon had also fall- This was of her story; but Herbert scarcely heard or listened. He could only feel that his arms en- folded her, and that the second bitter- which had been worse than that of death, had forever passed. The dinner hour had gone by when they re-entered the castle, and Lady Montfort awaited them in the dining hall. The lawyer and Arkwright were with her; the latter only in the body. His thought, his spirit, his heart. was in that upper room where Florence lay, moaning and unconscious. “My children!” said Lady Montfort, with mile, extending her hand for her son’s wife to approach. Dorothy went forward; but, as the hands of the two women met, the smile faded on the elder woman's lips, and a curious look of wonder crept in- to her eyes. She rose up in her digni- ty, from her chair. “Who is this?” she said. “This is not Dorothy—not my son’s wife—not the girl whose likeness I thought to- heaven had sent me in a daugh- ter! An awful silence fell upon the little group. Herbert had been deceived— not so his mother. The older eyes had gauged more keenly than they dreamed. So, then, in broken fragments, they unveiled to her the truth. It did not kill her, as they had feared. She list- ened calmly, silently. When all was told she took Dorothy in her arms and kissed her brow. “My daughter!” she said, “I welcome you to Montfort Castle!” Then excusing herself, with stately courtesy, she swept from the room. Only Arkwright divined where she had gone. Up the stairs she hastened to that chamber where Florence Vane perhaps lay dying. In the lovely azure eyes was no recognition as that aged face Arkwright | haunt of Bertie’s, | gathering twilight he saw a} had been appointed. Of the tragedv castle walls, there must be no suspi- cion beyond them; so, while Florence waged her war with death, Dorothy, with a heart saddened by her sister’s peril—a peril which wiped out all blame or censure of the past—bedecked herself again as a bride in the robes made ready for her. The solemn words had once again been spoken, the marriage vows again been registered, when, as leaning on her husband’s arm, they swept down the aisle, a figure, hideous and mock- ing, confronted them, with a low, ma- licious largh. Dorothy shrank back with a cry of terror. Her husband stepped before her to protect her. “I wish to tell you your marriage is not legal, Lord Montfort,” said Ger- vase. “The woman you have just mar- ried is my lawful wife! I thought I would let the farce go on to the end, in order to make my triumph more com- plete. I told her once that when she held to her hips the cup, I would dash it down. She has never suspected the truth. It was not my purpose that she should, but, in reality, I married her by a special dispensation of the church, and the marriage would hold good in any court of law. I knew when I pro- posed to marry the countess she would never assert her claim, and I had rep- resented my wife as dead. Now. I wish her to return to me. Already I have made confession to the church, and received its pardon. The I;w com- pels a wife to obey her husband. Flor- ence Gervase, drop that man’s arm, and follow me.” The speaker's face was livid. He was laboring under an excitement painful to look upon. He appeared al- most on the verge of madness. Step hy step, he had attained the pinnacle of lis triumph, and reached the sum- mit of his vengeance. Lord Montfort had made no interrup- tion in the hot torrent of his words. Though very pale, he held himself in check, and now said, quietly: “Sir, you will permit myself and wife to pass, else I shall have you thrust from my path.” The purple blood flew to his face, rendering more hideous still his undis. guised hideousness. He stretched out his hand to grasp Lady Montfort’s arm, but, with a quick blow, her hus- band dashed it down. “Madman!” he exclaimed. “Look at this lady, and satisfy yourself that it is not the woman whom you render pit- iful now by giving her at last the name you haye disgraced! Study every fea- ture, and then never again let your gaze pollute her. Ah, you are con- vinced!” For, as his eyes obeyed Lord Ment- fort's command, a awful change swept over him. The sword he had held against an- other’s heart had been turned into his own. He staggered back, and the bridal party swept on. He was alone in the chapel, balked of his vengeance and his victory—maddened, desperate, A few minutes later a shot startled those outside. When they hastened in, they found him bathed in his life- blood. In that sacred place, he had defied God, as he had long defied man, and sent his soul, more scarred than his own boasted beauty, into the silence of eternity: (The End.) ——— A Familiar Friend. ‘The cleverest daughter recently made a beautiful shade for the piano lamp from a pink evening dress, and trim- med it with roses from her last sum- mer’s hat. That evening a young man called on her, and, to low-toned music, they chatted. “How do you like our new lamp- shade?” she asked, demurely. Be studied it for a moment. “The last time I saw it,” he replied, “I was dancing with it.”—Harper’s Bazar. A Vengeful Thought. “In some future year,” said the citi- zen with a powerful imagination, “the human race will find the sun extinct. That once glowing orb will cease to shed its rays upon our world, Then what'll we do?” “What'll we do?” echoed the morose man, who was grinning, for the first time in weeks. “That isn’t the ques- tion. What'll the ice man do?”—Wash- ington Star. Neglecting His Chance. “Ananias misdirected his talents. That was his main difficulty.” “Why, he was a person of unmiti- gated mendacity,” replied the man who never allows his feelings to disturb his vocabulary. “Of course. That’s what we are obliged te call him. But if he lad eon fined himself to predicting cold waves in summer and hot waves in winter he might have been held up to admiration as an optimist.”—Washington Star. The Irony of Fate. “Count, why did you marry that pale, thin girl, when you might have had her plump, rosy-cheeked sister?” “Well, I tell you. I was sinking of —what call him—zees provairb: ‘Of two evils, choose ze least.’ And now her fazaire has failed! Ah, mon Dieu! Zees provairb ees one—what you call him—fake!”"—Chieago Times-Herald. The Fall, “Whin th’ horseshoe came fiyin’ trough th’ air an’ struck ye on th’ head, did ye see sthars?” “Divil a wan! Oi saw Noijagara.” “Ye did? Phwat part of Noiagara did ye see?” “Horseshoe rapids, be dad!”—Chica- go News. Apothecary Humor, Mrs. Leary—I want to git some qui- noine pills. Clerk—Those with coats on them, I suppose? bent over her, nor did she feel the kiss| Mrs. Leary—No; thim wid thor coats upon her lips, the tears which fell from those old eyes upon her brow; neither did she hear the broken words which gave her their forgiyeness. “My poor, poor child!’ murmured that stern, proud woman. “Can I ever love my son’s wife as I have learned to love you, who had usurped her place, not only in our home, but in our hearts? Ah, my daughter, you called me mother! And what is a mother’s province save forgiveness—which is in- finite as love?” CHAPTER XXXVv. The ceremony was to take place as off. Clerk—Oh, I understand, William, bring out some of those quinine pills in their shirt sleeves.—Chicago News. Any Number of “Lasts.” “You mustn’t say ‘the two last per- formances,’” protested the grammari- an. “I know what I’m doing,” answered the theatrical manager. ‘I’m talking about the farewell appearance of a prima donna.”—Washington Star. The more a gas jet blows the less light it affords, Some men resemble gas jets. which had been enacted within the \THE WAR IN IDAHO. | RAMPANT IMPERIALISM HOME AND ABROAD. AT Military Dictatorship Exists In Idaho as ‘Well as in Cuba, Porto Rico and the Philippines — We Are Sowing the Whirlwind. The American empire is now in the experimental stage. Queen Victoria’s legal title, conferred by act of parlia- ment, is “Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, and Empress of India.” Vic- toria’s queenship of Ireland is based solely upon force. The people of Ire- land would not for one moment rec- ognize her authority were it not back- ed up by an overwhelming array of British bayonets. Victoria is empress of India solely because a huge hired army of white, brown and black men are always ready to shoot anybody who objects. None of the people of India would vote to elect Victoria, or any other English woman, empress of their country. Such is English imperialism. It is not supported by the real patriots of England, but the schemers, usurers and fools are practically strong enough to maintain the policy. It is designed for the purpose of robbing the people of Ireland and India for the benefit of a few money kings in London. The result will be the enslavement of the English masses as well as the masses of Ireland and India, American imperialists, with. head- quarters in Wall street, say the United States must follow in the blood-stained footprints of Great Britain. We must have colonies where military govern- ment will be administered by soldiers, responsible only to the ex-officio com- mander-in-chief of the army and navy, the president of the United States. The bayonets of an enlarged standing army are to be used to extort usury for Wall street from the inhabitants of the east- ern and western islands, and also, like the bayonets of other military powers, they are to be used to enforce pluto- cratic tyranny upon American work- ingmen, The latter is what the new Ameri- can standing army is doing under command of General Merriam directly, and President McKinley indirectly. Without any warrant of law the Unit- ed States army has imprisoned the principal citizens of an Idaho county, to the number. of 350, in a vile stock- ade 60x70 feet in size, and has kept them there for weeks without allowing them to consult with their attorneys, families or friends, denying them the benefit of habeas corpus; denying them decent food, shelter, medical at- tendance and the possibility of clean- liness. All of these horrors for weeks have been perpetrated by General Merriam and the regular negro soldiers under his command upon the miners. Mer- chants, preachers, and eounty officials of an Idaho county, and because tne Mullan Mirror protested, its editor was jailed, its type confiscated and the pa- per suppressed. Thus the new imperialism and the new standing army operate at home, and he who objects is called a copper- head and a traitor, because they claim nothing must be said against the pres- ident’s policies while he is engaged in war in the Philippines. The’ presidenc can do no wrong, say the imperialists. Today a military dictator’s whip, with William McKinley as the sole re- sponsible dictator, exists in Cuba, Por- to Rico, one county in Idaho and the small strip of territory in the Philip- pine islands now occupied by the Unit- ed States army. Does any one claim that any form of government except military despotism exists in any of the territory named? If so, what and where? When the American people become thoroughly accustomed to the military rule of our fellow men im Porto Rico, Cuba and the Philippines, for the pur- pose of extorting Wall street’s usury from them; when we become reconciled to government censorship of mails and telegraph at home and abroad; when the people applaud the introduction of martial law for the benefit of such cor- porations as the Standard Oil company, who know no law themselves; then the time shall be ripe for the introdue- tion in congress of a resolution declar- ing William McKinley’s title to be “President of the United States and Emperor of the East and West Indies.” Why not? Is not that what he act- ually is? Has he not absolute pawer over life and death, property and lo- erty and public speech in those islands, so far as it is in the power of the army and navy to enforce his decrees? And that is not the worst of it. The worst of it is that the same absolute power is being enforced by regular army bayonets in Idaho. It may be any other state next, and you and I may speedily learn how Cubans and Filipinos feel under military despot- ism, PERCY PEPOON. POINTS FROM THE PRESS, Dollars up and commodities down in price; indeed this is the era of repub- lican good times.—Centralia (Ill) X Rays. Measures rather than men, principles rather than parties. This should pe the motto of all reformers. With di- rect legislation in our state constitu- tion, the people would suffer but little from either politicians or political par- ties. It is the stepping stone to every reform which can command a major- ity of the people. It is pure democra- cy.—Oregon City Herald. Bimetallism will raise the level of prices in the countries where our wheat, cotton and meats are sold. This would enable our farmers to pay their debts, improve their farms, and pur- chase the products of manufacturers, thereby furnishing employment and labor and prosperity to the whole country. This is democratic doctrine. The republican party talks about pro- tection and at the same time is seek- ing to force the American farmer to compete for gold against the ryot of India, the fellah of Egypt, and the coolie of China. Which do you pre- fer?—National Watchman. It is evident that the president (in wanting more soldiers) doubts the press reports of the countless chou- sands of Filipinos we kill to every man or two of our own that we lose. Mc- Kinley had better look out. The first thing he knows he will have the Asso- ciated Press down on him.—Jerry Simpson’s Bayonet. A Michigan man has been telling “How to Enjoy Country Life.” It’s easy. Let the other fellows owe the amount of the mortgages.—Augusta (Ga.) Herald. Government ownership of railroads, or railroad ownership of governments. Answer! Please use arguments. The people are tired of your stock in traue —slander and ridicule.—Centralia (II].) X Rays. Direct legislation means the unre- stricted rule of the majority of duly qualified electorata. Who can ask for more than this? He that does is a par- tisan, bowed at the shrine of party su- premacy, and seeks party rule rather than the rule of the people.—East Texas Reformer. It is a pertinent question to ask workingmen if there is any consistency in striking against the tyranny of an unscrupulous employer and then sup- porting the same employer’s candidate at the polls?—Metal Polishers’ Journal. It would be far better for the peo- ple of the United States to have free competition with the people of Asia on everything else than upon gold if that metal is to be made the sole pric- ing instrument of American products —National Watchman. THE BEST MONEY. We are told by the gold advocates that we, the people of the United States, and especially the laboring peo- ple, should have the very “best money.” That the “best money” is none too good for “four working peo- ple.” Then they assume that the “best money” is the money that will buy the most food and the best clothing. That is the dearest money—the costliest money—the money that will buy the most products of labor or the most labor, is the “best money.” Yet these same inconsistent politi- cians tell ws with great glee that the prices of products and wages are ris- ing—that is, that a dollar will not now purchase as much as it did three or four years ago. If this is so, money is depreciating—it is not the “best money”—not as good as it was. 3 History tells us that at one time in England, after Caesar had invaded the island, and taken away nearly all their gold and silver, that money was so scarce, and so near being the “best money,” that a man could be bought for less than $15; a horse for less than $5; a cow for $2; a sheep for 5 cents and a goat for 2 cents. Of course that was better money than we ever had. Just think how happy “our working people” would be if they could get to work for that kind of the “best money!” Would they not pay off their mortgages and taxes in a jiffy? Then surely confidence would be restored! So you see we are a long distance yet from having the “best money”—ac- cording to these wiseacres. J. P. ROBINSON. How to Administer It. One of the profoundest problems that the United States was ever forced tc grapple with is how to make 5,000 pov- erty struck Cuban soldiers aecept $75 a head in gold as a gift. Several hun- dred representatives of Cuba libre have so far marched up to the captain’s of- fice and with tears in their eyes taken the money. The rest loak on with con- tempt. As Uncle Sam is hound that these men shall be helped with cash, or he will know the reason why, some effectual method ought to be adopted that will save time. How would it do to shoot the gold into them with rapid. fire guns?—Alameda Encinal. New Annexationists. The multi-millionaires of New York are simply dying with a desire to ape nobility. They even sell their daugh- ters to pinky doodle counts and dukes with doubtful titles. We would not be surprised to see New York yei lead a movement to annex New England and New York to Canada in order fo satisfy their craving for titles — George’s Weekly. : The Cure for Strikes, If there were plenty of opportunity for all men to work whenever they de- sired, and to receive the full product of their labor, you would never see q body of men struggling with another body of men to keep them from work- ing.—New Era, “It Makes Diff ~ Benévolent Old Gent—My cl ware of picking a toadstool a mushroom. They are so easy to con- fuse. { Child—That be all roight, sur, that . They’re goin’ to the market to be sold.—Answers. } Rich—Yet Starving. Doctors frequently have very wealthy patients who are starving. They have money to buy food, but their stomacs has not the strength to digest it. It lies there a heavy, fermented mass, the sole cause of dyspepsia, nervousness and biliousness. The surest remedy to cure a weak stomach is Hostetter's One Place He Would Accept. “I think you are the laziest man I you would take for a salary?” “Yes. I think I'd be willing to hofft down the position of Spanish minister of war.”—Chicago Tribune. “Actions of the Just Smell Sweet.” The fragrance of life is vigor and strength, neither of which can be found ina person whose blood is impure, and whose every breath speaks of internal @ troubles. Hood's Sarsaparilla _purific the blood and makes the weak strong. ; She'd Rather Walk. An old Irish lady thought she would like to knew what the prebable ex- pense of her funeral would be, as she trouble to her heirs. The old Iady, who stuttered, sent for Mr. Blank (the undertaker), and said to him: “Mr. Blank, what would you charse for a I don’t w-want plumes and all s-s-s-sorts of grand things, but a nice, plain hearse, without any n-n-n-nonsense.” “Ten pounds,” replied the funerals furnisher. “Ten exclaimed the old pounds!” hi Seerets of the Trade. “We make our own ice ¢ aurant proprietor. , We know just what it onse- con- do,” replied the patron, “but IL don’t.”—Chicago Post. Ask Your Dealer for Allen's Foot-Ease. A powder to shake in your shoes. It rests the feet. Cures Corns, Bunions, Swollen, Sore, Hot, Callous, Aching Sweating Feet and Ingrowing Is At all druggists and shoe stores, Sample mailed FREE. Address Allen 8. Olmsted, Le Roy, N. Y. Perils of Commercial Life. “Henry came home furious night.” “What was the matter, daughter?’ “Why, mamma, I had put two eggs in his luncheon and forgot to cook them.”—Detroit Free Press. last Fad @ Lively Time. Watts ave a good time yesterday? 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